Days of the Weak
by the sorrowful
Summary: JONAS. There he is, standing in the middle of the kitchen, trying to figure out how to tell the world that he, Nick Lucas, maybe didn't want to do the music thing anymore. Nick-centric. Nick/Macy. Somewhat dark.
1. Chapter One: Monday

**Chapter One: Monday.  
**

_Let's try this again._

That's what he tells himself when he feels all those words at the tip of his tongue wanting to drip down his throat, never to be heard. But he's used to this and despite the presence of a mantra—which, for all intents and purposes should have helped him along—he buckles. It would be insane to say that he isn't used to pressure, especially from himself. Pressure is how he lives his life.

Which would make this particular moment in time so ironic.

No matter how many mornings pass him by where he'll wake up and say that today will be the day… it's never the day. It never changes.

He wants to say that today is the day that he wants to stop. He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's been doing it for so long, every single day of every single week of every single month of every single year since he was knocking on the door to adolescence. He's afraid that it'll never stop. Because he can't imagine not doing this forever but at the same time, the thought of doing this forever makes him want to _throw up_.

_I don't want this anymore… I think._

He wishes that he didn't lack so much conviction. But there he is, standing in the middle of the kitchen, trying to figure out how to tell the world that he, Nick Lucas, maybe didn't want to do the music thing anymore.

Maybe. _Maybe._

Okay. So. Today isn't the day.

Honestly, it pains him to be so gutless. So _weak_.

He hates it.

He heads to school with his brothers and most of the day is just a blur of color and sound. Joe and Stella make the not-so-subtle eyes at each other. Kevin says something that earns him curious looks. And he… He's his quiet self and no one ever questions that.

It's during lunch period that he finds himself looking around while waiting for his brothers to get their stuff sorted out and his eyes land on the atrium. On a Macy Misa who is currently sitting on the bench criss-cross-applesauce (that's what Frankie calls it) with her legs hidden beneath her skirt. An open textbook is balancing on her right leg and she's studying it, the concentration etched on her forehead. What makes the whole picture entirely _Macy_ is that with her left hand, she's tossing a baseball in the air at a steady pace as she reads her book. He can almost make out her pink-painted fingers tracing the words of her book as her hyperactive mind tries to digest every piece of information. A slight breeze passes and a strand of her dark hair gets caught on her lip-balmed lip but she's too caught up in what she's doing to push it away. It's rare that he's able to watch her this way when she's completely unaware.

He almost feels like a kid at the aquarium, looking at an interesting underwater creature and studying its movements. For a moment, he wonders what it's like in Macy's world because her world always seems so… _bright_. There's really no other word for it. He imagines rainbows and sunflowers and butterflies and, for some reason, really, really, _really_ green frogs. The thought makes him jealous. Being on the stage so often with its glaring lights and seas of fans has painted the rest of his life in muted tones. He misses how it used to be when he didn't have to go and strap a guitar to his body and perform before thousands in order to feel something (_anything_) but that's how it is now. It scares him.

He mentally shakes all those weird and somewhat confusing thoughts from his head, even though the distraction is welcome. More than welcome in fact, he thinks as he turns to study the petite girl once again. His right hand searches for his notebook in his bag, to distract the others from his obvious distraction. Because, you know, life just isn't complicated enough.

Stella comes stomping through the atrium now and she stops in front of her best friend. This results in Macy stopping what she's been doing since even before he's had his eyes trained on her and a part of Nick is slightly disappointed. Another part of Nick stops short at the realization that Little Miss Multitasker Misa drops everything that she's doing when it comes to her friends. Yet another part of him questions if Macy considers him a friend enough to do the same for him. The last part of himself is a little sad that the question even exists.

He shrugs it off, letting these silly ideas slide off his back and onto to the ground (hopefully to be forgotten very, very soon). Then he turns to his brothers and makes a big deal of looking at his watch and raising his eyebrow at them. They'd keep him waiting all day if they could. It's not like they haven't tried to before. (The difficult thing about being a group of three is that someone is always outnumbered and it's usually him.)

"Just a sec, Nick," his eldest brother replies, busy with painting his locker door. It's happened often enough that he doesn't bother asking anymore. He sighs and tries to tune out Joe who decided, at some point, that singing the words "Tuna squish, tuna squish" would be entertaining. Unfortunately, that isn't the case at all.

After a few strokes that look more like a sword in a fight than a paintbrush doing its job, Kevin declares himself done and ready for "Lunch people!"and Nick does his best to appear relieved that forward movement toward the cafeteria will finally be achieved. Somehow, though, he feels unprepared to leave the place his feet are currently rooted to and requires a shove from Joe to get going. His brother gives him a look and he knows that it's justified because he's acting weirder than usual. (He won't even argue that weird for him is tantamount to normal for Kevin.)

Taking a deep breath, his feet unfurl themselves from the ground and he takes a step forward but not in the direction anticipated. His feet (the damnable things!) spin in (approximately) a ninety-degree angle and proceed to trudge toward the atrium. His traitorous knuckles knock on the glass panel and two heads, one blonde and one brunette, spare him a moment as they stop talking and look at him.

"Lunch?"' he mouths to them (and if he is honest with himself for even one second today, he would admit that he does so hopefully) while hitching his thumb in the direction of the cafeteria.

Stella nods in reply but his eyes are on Macy who digs through her bag pulling out an apple, showing off its ruby gleam to him. She then points to her book, which he can know see is a history book, and offers him a rueful smile and shrug. He returns them readily (both smile and shrug) and heads off to follow his brothers who have gone ahead without him.

* * *

"You okay, Nick?"

He looks up from his keyboard to see his dad looking down at him with concerned eyes. It's nice that after everything (fame and fortune and everything else in between) dad is still dad, mom is still mom, Kevin is still Kevin, etcetera and so on and so forth… Except Nick isn't Nick anymore. He doesn't get it. How can someone _consciously_ change? When it started, he could feel the change coursing through his veins. He was just powerless to stop it. Powerless? Somehow he feels that that's the wrong word entirely.

But instead of venturing into the unknown territory of sharing his feelings, he looks at his father with blank eyes and answers with a question. "What makes you think that I'm not?" He doesn't really mean it as a challenge but it comes out that way nonetheless. So he's not surprised when his dad shoots him one of those 'Quit the attitude or else' looks.

"Well, let's see Nicholas. You sat down there two hours ago and no one has heard a peep out of you since. Not a sound. I came to make sure you were still even here."

"Oh. Well. I'm here." He casts his eyes downward and they, in turn, trace each delicate curve of the black and white keys.

He hears his dad sigh and the floorboard creaks a little as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "That you are…" He trails off and Nick hopes that the conversation will end there but of course it never does. "Listen, Nick, I know this isn't just another case of writer's block. You know that whatever has been bothering you, you can tell me, right?"

That's debatable, he wants to say, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut and merely answers with a stiff nod. "Yeah, dad. Thanks." He even offers him a small smile to seal the deal, to get him walking again, out of the room, so that he can continue staring at the wall like he's been doing the past ninety-eight minutes. It works and he's left to his own devices once again.

Only, he is device-less. All he has are fingers that are afraid to touch the keyboard. He has spent the better part of two hours wondering what would happen if his fingertips touched the cool plastic. A part of him (the most ridiculous part of him _evar_) is convinced that he will just _die_. He will stop breathing. His heart will stop beating. It won't even be painful. Everything will just cease to be.

It scares him. It scares him because he wants to touch them just for that reason.

There's a short shriek of laughter that pierces through his self-imposed silence and he pushes himself away from the offending death instrument to find it. What he finds is Stella and Macy wrestling on the floor over a purple feather boa. Or, rather, Stella wrestling Macy to the ground so that she can wrap it around her best friend. At least that's what it looks like to him.

"I'll never surrender to you, Stella!" Macy shouts at the top of her lungs, her face a strawberry red as she tries to push her best friend off of her person. "Get off! You're crazy heavy!"

Her competitor, the fierce Malone, will not be deterred it seems as she brushes off the insult and victoriously ties a knot with the accessory's two ends. "A deal's a deal, Misa! You said!" Stella points an accusing finger at the defeated girl once she's back on her feet. "You lost the bet and now you have to wear that to your next volleyball game." The triumphant look in her eyes is undeniable and as she brushes herself off.

"God, Stella," Macy huffs, now masquerading as a ball of purple feathers. "You should seriously think about joining the wrestling team." She sits up and tries to free herself from her fashion cage, spitting a feather out of her mouth as she tugs and pulls. "I'm stuck."

Nick almost jumps when her eyes meet his and he's five years old again, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Macy seems just as surprised (if her jaw dropping is any indication) but it's Stella who talks to him first.

"Nick! Sorry if we disturbed you and your songwriting."

She smiles apologetically as she says this and he doesn't bother correcting her. Songwriting? It's a default action for him, he supposes. And sitting in front of a keyboard would give a person that impression. Regardless if it is played or not.

Macy smiles her smile. The one that goes from ear-to-ear and is all pearly white teeth and joy. He'd have to be an idiot not to know that she's excited at the prospect of a new song. Macy Misa, covered in purple feathers with her hair in complete disarray and her cheeks almost the color of her lunch apple is excited over _possibility_.

A possibility that doesn't even exist.

He feels the waves of jealousy again, the second time today, because it takes him a crowded arena chanting his name for him to feel the exact same way. Jaded. That's what he's become. Cynical. Quite possibly suffering from clinical depression. But it sounds all so 'Rockstar' that he hopes that it's none of those.

(But if he is honest with himself for even just one second today, he'd say that it's all of those.)

"Sorry to disappoint, Mace, but no song today."

Her crestfallen look ignites something inside him and he hates it. He's disgusted by it. But he loves that he has this power over her and it's sick sick _sick_. But he can't help himself. He can't help himself as he gives her a hand, helping her to her feet. Or even when he places his hands on her shoulders, steering her toward the other room while ignoring Stella's confused stare. And when he reaches for his guitar and starts playing an old song for her and watches as her entire face lights up the room (including that most ridiculous part of him), he doesn't notice that touching the guitar strings didn't kill him.

Instead, he feeds off of her, of her uncontainable happiness, her shining hair, eyes and smile. He almost feels guilty but then, seeing the look on her face, he doesn't feel so bad. She feeds off of him, too. Might not be the same thing but it's something.

Something that tells him that maybe he's still normal.

"You wanna come over tomorrow?" he finds himself asking and she nods emphatically.

Today is Monday. For a Monday, he's feeling rather good.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**Next chapter up soon, hopefully.


	2. Chapter Two: Tuesday

**Chapter Two: Tuesday.**

Weeks have passed since that Monday when things began to change (yet again) and Macy has been coming over almost every day since then. (Except for Sundays because her big family is big on Sunday being family day and he doesn't have the heart to ask her to come over then too because he knows she'll drop everything if he just _asks_.) He doesn't want to think about what it all means. He knows what it means. It means he's a terrible terrible person and she's just being Macy (because how can he be Nick when he doesn't know how to be Nick anymore?).

His brothers tease him about his 'little Macy crush' and he doesn't say anything. It's safer to let them think what they want. Easier, to be honest. (Because he's been trying out the honesty route recently. Kinda. He's strayed from the path a number of times.) Even his parents give him knowing looks whenever they see him with Macy and that's all right too because Dad has stopped asking questions (he's assumed that it was another failure of a crush and that he's moved on to "that sweet girl Macy!" as his mother likes to say) and so Nick doesn't have to think about questions to answer his father's questions with. He is rapidly beginning to realize that his life is about avoiding things. And he's getting really good at it.

That doesn't seem to matter anymore because thoughts of quitting music have left his mind. Not completely, though. But he doesn't wake up every day wishing that it would all be over. In fact, he's begun looking forward to tomorrows again and it's been so so _so_ long since he remembers that last happening.

He thinks he might be getting better but he can't be too sure so he keeps hanging out with Macy, singing songs to her and eating up her smiles.

"You're weird," she tells him today as they sit together in the atrium and hands him an apple. (What's weird is that he's associating her to things he'd never thought possible like apples, green green frogs, purple feather boas and _sanity_.)

"Yes. Yes I am."

He feels her staring at him as he bites into his apple but he doesn't make a move to return the look. It's when she's bubbling over with cheerful giggles that he finally does turn to her, taking in her glistening eyes and toothy grin.

"What's so funny?" he prompts.

She bites into her own apple and raises her shoulders in a dainty little shrug. "Well, you know…" She gives a small almost absent-minded smile. "This whole thing is weird, don't you think?"

"What thing?" He is so much more adept at asking questions than answering them and he's thankful that Macy's not the type to get annoyed when he steps over hers like he's a soldier on a mine field.

"First of all," she begins and then purses her lips for a moment in thought before continuing, "who would have thought that we'd be friends?"

Friends?

"We weren't friends?"

"Of course we were!" she amends quickly. "It's just that… Well, it's never been like this, has it? I hung out mostly with Kevin and Joe. Although, yes, the Joe thing is mostly due to Stella and all. But still. You and I?" Her finger points to the two of them. "Hanging out is not what we do, Nick. I hit you with sports equipment, yes. I also fangirl ridiculously accompanied with some embarrassing hyperventilating that may or may not result in fainting. And you… You're Nick Lucas." At this point, he feels like he should interrupt her but she's just so into it that he decides otherwise. "Nick Lucas who is quiet and serious and looks like he's processing about a million brilliant ideas in his head… We're not two peas in a pod, Nick. So _this_? Eating apples in the atrium for lunch and having an actual conversation—and not just because you need to talk to me but because you want to—it's just really…"

"Weird?" he finishes helpfully and it earns him another giggle. He takes refuge in that giggle, wraps it around him like a warm blanket on a winter night.

She shakes her head, clearly amused with him and he decides that if it was ever just _easy_ to be around someone it would be Macy. He won't be obtuse and call it a crush like his brothers do. He's experienced enough of those to be able to distinguish when it is and isn't. It's a companionship. Kinda. Yes, he does get some sort of twisted kind pleasure from being with her which contrasts rather darkly with your run-off-the-mill friendship. She puts him on a pedestal, in the center of her universe, a point reference to revolve around. With her, he doesn't need an ocean of fans. He can just sit in the atrium, eating an apple and feel just as good about himself.

He knows that he's just using her. He can't help it. The startling realization is this: He'd rather be Nick of JONAS than just Nick Lucas. It's the truth that has been digging into his gut trying to carve its way out of his body and make itself known. He thinks about his family and how they would react. His mother will blame herself and say something about not having been raised that way and his father will look at him with such disappointment and he's afraid that when he's entirely too Nick of JONAS and no longer Nick Lucas that these things (family and principles and normalcy) won't matter anymore. So he sucks it all inside and pushes it into the space between his lungs. Yes, all he breathes in is bitterness but at least he can get through the rest of his day thinking that he's okay.

(He doesn't want to be Nick of JONAS anymore but he doesn't know how to stop. That's what his heart tells him. His mind says, "If you can't be either, who will you be?")

"You okay?"

He feels that slight twinge between his lungs as he takes a deep breath before answering. "Yeah, I'm okay. So, what time are you coming over later?"

"Got softball after school. The coach says it's gonna be an 'epic season'." She munches on her apple thoughtfully. "Epic is such a silly word. Or maybe I only find it silly because I've never thought about anything as being 'epic' before in the way people just throw it around. I mean, epic is… _epic_. There aren't many things that should be epic because when everything's epic then nothing is, you know?"

"Like in that Disney movie… if everyone is a superhero…"

She giggles and gives him a playful punch on his arm before breaking his heart (completely). "What if everyone was a rockstar? Then you wouldn't be special then, would you _Nick of JONAS_?"

He tries to swallow down the sudden wave of emotion, one that's similar to the feeling he gets when he thinks that someday Macy will outgrow her JONAS fascination but he'll still always feel this way.

(Conflicted and Ashamed.)

It feels like indigestion. Like heartburn.

(His insides are a mess.)

* * *

"So where's Macy?"

Nick would be hard-pressed to miss the sarcastic tone in Kevin's voice as he slips inside his brother's car. He chalks it up to a bad day and decides to ignore it in favor of keeping the peace. So he shrugs in answer and leaves it at that.

But Kevin doesn't seem to think the same way and fixes him with a stare that cannot be described in any exact way except that it's the opposite of warm and caring. "Nick," his brother begins and common sense just tells him that the following words out of Kevin's mouth won't be pleasant. "I know that I kid around with Joe a lot about your Macy crush, but dude… I seriously hope you really honestly care about her. She's a sweet kid, you know?"

There's something in the way that his brother says the words, a slight tenderness almost desperately masked by concern, that makes his insides flip over twice. It's at the tip of his tongue to ask what Kevin _really_ wants to tell him but (the very ridiculous) part of him knows that he doesn't want to hear it. Because Nick's getting (feeling) better and the only reason he can come up with is Macy and her rainbow-filled laughter. He's not going to give that up. Not even for his brother.

(Because he's far far _far_ more broken can anyone can ever imagine. Or manage.)

Selfish. So aside from being insane, he is a selfish asshole. He can deal with that. (Because there are worse things such as being on the brink of just _losing yourself_.)

He gives Kevin a look that (hopefully) coveys his unwillingness to participate in the conversation. When his brother appears to be mollified he realizes that it might have been misconstrued as being offended by the statement. Offended is last on the list of Nick Lucas's possible reactions. But he wants the conversation over and he'll take what he can get.

Additional reinforcements arrive in the forms of Joe and Stella and he almost wants to throw his arms around them in a welcoming embrace. Only the possibility of arousing suspicion stops him and instead he leans back ask the warm interior of the automobile and closes his eyes. They make the trip to the firehouse in relative silence, sometimes punctuated by whispered conversation between the somewhat/kinda/maybe/not quite couple in the backseat. He thinks he hears his name a few times and some of those few times his name is appended to Macy's making them "Nick and Macy" or "Macy and Nick". He doesn't mention it, though. (Because then he might as well comment on Kevin's rather tense driving and that's just a whole can of worms that he doesn't want to open.)

He follows the group inside the house and the second he steps inside he's assaulted by the firing squad that is his mother. "Where's Macy?" she asks from the kitchen, knuckles deep in the makings of meatloaf. "She's coming over today, isn't she? Will she be having dinner with us?"

"Tuesday. Softball practice. Dunno." He doesn't even bother to stop as he answers and runs up to the room he shares with his brothers, feeling thoroughly exhausted despite being only half-alive.

Toeing off his leather shoes, he falls ungracefully into bed and buries his head into his pillow. Perhaps this is how he should spend the rest of his life. In bed. By himself. No sharp objects about. It's heaven. A paradise. His own little island. Except in comes Joe and he throws his schoolbag to the side, uncaring of the noise he's creating.

"Nick… You okay, man?" If only he had a dollar for every time someone asked him that question.

He doesn't bother answering his brother let alone actually turning to look at him. With the last vestiges of his energy, he manages to lift his hand and shoo Joe away. "Tired," he croaks before allowing himself to be consumed by dreamless slumber.

Poking. A constant and rather rhythmic jab to his side. That's what wakes him up. That and the soft voice that softly chants, "Wake up, Nick… Wake up, Nick…"

He sighs loudly and stretches as he rolls onto his back. There's some faint light coming from somewhere in the room and he blinks his eyes a couple of times to help them adjust. They begin to focus on a face that's looking down at him. Macy. She's smiling down at him with her damp hair rolling down her shoulders in dark waves, a few stray strands tickle his wrist. He doesn't realize that there's a question written on his face but she answers him in quiet tones as if he were still in the middle of peaceful sleep.

"Went home for a shower after practice and decided to come by for a bit. Stella said that Joe said that you might be feeling a bit under the weather so I figured I check in on you. Can't stay for dinner, though. Mom's kinda been freaking out about how much time I've been spending over here. It's annoying but then she's a mom and freaking out is their specialty…"

As she speaks, he pushes himself up until he's sitting and they're face to face. He gets a whiff of… apples? (Apples.) His stomach lurches in a telltale sign that he's hungry and needs some sort sustenance but what he does instead catches even him completely off-guard. Without warning, he leans forward leans his head against her shoulder, his lips hovering over the delicate pulse at her neck. He takes in a deep breath, almost to see how much of the apple scent he can inhale and when he exhales on her skin, he can feel her shiver.

He almost wants to laugh at how his actions has surprised her into freezing up and not breathing but she relaxes almost immediately and wraps an arm about his shoulders while the back of her free hand makes its way to his forehead. "You don't feel warm…"

"I'm not sick."

"Oh."

He exhales again and she answers with another shiver.

"Well, I should…"

It takes all of his willpower to just not wrap all his limbs around her to make her stay because he needs this. He needs to breathe in her apple-scented shampoo and see her berry-painted fingernails so that he can feel like he's coming closer to resembling something human (normal, Nick Lucas). Instead, he leans just that small inch forward, pressing his lips against that pulse point. She sighs oh so very softly.

(It's like a drug the way it shoots emotion throughout his body.)

At which point, she falls on top of him. At which point, her knee makes horrible and painful contact to a very sensitive part of his anatomy.

(There _is_ a God. He's always known that but never as much as this moment in time.)

Curled into a ball of pain, he can feel Macy's fingers on his arm trying to soothe it all away along with her murmured apologies. He nods stiffly because that's all he can manage (the words are caught in his throat) and it takes several minutes for the ache to gentle down to a slight throb.

"This is so embarrassing… A thousand times more embarrassing than that time with the golf club…"

He manages to unfurl his body, finally lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling (which is technically the underside of his drum kit platform which he's doodled on over the years) with Macy's warm body beside him doing the same.

"Don't give yourself a heart attack, Mace. It was an accident."

"I know! But still!" There is wild gesturing as she says this. "Man, and I really thought I had gotten over the whole hurting JONAS thing! It's just that, I thought that you… I mean… I thought I felt… and then… I really… I don't know what happened!"

He bites his lower lip to keep from laughing at her obvious frustration. "You don't?" he asks and is totally unprepared for her to roll onto her side to stare him down.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

(Yeah, he plays the innocent card. So what?)

"You know what."

He moves to face her, his hand between them lying a few inches away from the patch of skin of her abdomen that her shirt is failing to cover. It's the glint of the ring on his finger that makes him think.

(One of the things Nick things about is what God will do next because getting kneed in the groin was already pretty bad and he can just see this escalating. Getting hit by lightning perhaps?)

(Part of wants the lightning thing to happen. Maybe.)

"I don't know," he replies with as much eloquence as he can muster, then quickly adds, "I don't know _why_. Just… felt like doing it."

Macy seems to accept this explanation. Or so he assumes. At least, that's the vibe she's getting from her when she kisses the corner of his mouth.

"Why'd you do that?"

She shrugs and smiles at him (the one that has all her teeth on display) and he can almost forget what a jerk he is. He knows now that Macy likes him. Whether as Nick of JONAS or Nick Lucas, he doesn't really care (though, he's more inclined to believe that it's the latter and not the former). The fact pleases him immensely, more than it should and he feels his heart beating faster in his chest. He could tell himself that it's because he likes her so much but the truth is, he's getting nervous. From the moment he woke up until now, it's been a series of bad choices and he knows that his streak is far from over.

(He's honest to God—no, he's really not but he doesn't really care—using her right now and he hopes she knows that he is.)

The best option is to just get off the bed, bid Macy good night, watch her leave and then sit down to dinner with his family. Of course, he does the exact opposite. His innocent hand with the purity ring slowly inches its way toward her and backs of his fingers brush against her warm flesh. When she moans softly he knows that the smiles and the apples are obsolete. He wants her sighs and moans now and he doesn't even stop to think how that makes him sound.

(Asshole. Monster.)

His fingers move to her hip and he's drawing her closer to him with his arm, his hand now splayed against her back. But she's the one that starts kissing him, placing her soft lips on his and slipping her tongue inside his mouth when he groans. Desperately, he kisses her back and she bestows him her little sighs which he eats up as he pushes her against his pillows.

"I like you," she says between kisses.

He answers with a Nick of JONAS smile and that seems to please her, making her wrap her legs around his hips.

(He should get a defibrillator to jump start his heart. To make sure it's still there.)

It's when someone calls out, "Dinner" that they break apart and as Nick looks down at Macy with her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, her hair a mess on his pillow there's a stab of guilt somewhere in his gut but it's immediately followed by a downpour of pride. Only he makes her feel this way.

"Nick?" It's Kevin. He's standing a little behind the recording booth.

(He can see the heartbreak in his brother's eyes but he'll pretend that it's too dark to notice.)

"Are you staying for dinner, Mace?" Nick asks the girl whose thighs he's kneeling between.

(Asshole.)

He rewards her with a soft kiss.

(Monster.)

* * *

**Author's Note:**

First, thank you for the reviews. Much appreciated!

Second, I know this type of Nick won't go over well with the fandom. But it's a risk I'm willing to take!


	3. Chapter Three: Wednesday

**Chapter Three: Wednesday.**

It's Wednesday. She has hockey practice.

At least that's what she keeps telling him between the kisses that she presses against his neck. (He really really likes the ones along his collarbone. They make him shiver.) He doesn't quite believe her seeing as how she's been murmuring those same words for the past twenty minutes but hasn't made any move to detach her lips from his skin and leave their special spot (one of a few—a little recess along the outside wall of the gym building) for the girls' locker room.

His right hand grips her hip and the other is curling around the nape of her neck as he draws her closer, his mouth trailing from her jaw to her lips. He swallows her moans and they fill his tummy with so much good feeling that it only makes him deepen the kiss, making her chances of escape drop from slim to none. He needs her to feed his hunger, that horrible ache in his gut.

(He wants to be normal. He wants to be normal. _He just wants to be normal_. Is that so bad?)

But her hands find their way to his shoulders and with a small gasp, she finally manages to push herself away from him. It's really unfair of him, but he plays dirty and uses his puppy dog eyes to get her to stay. Her fingers flutter at his jaw and he shudders slightly (and he feels everything, he feels alive).

"Hockey practice!" Macy exclaims and points a warning finger at him with his other hand.

He playfully grabs her finger, drawing the others along with it to intertwine with his own. "Don't leave?" _Ever_, he wants to add.

"Nick!" she admonishes him, but not before she gives in and kisses him softly on the lips. "I'm gonna be late and I haven't even changed yet! If I'm late again the coach is gonna be so mad. It doesn't help that was also late last week because you suddenly showed up with frozen yogurt—with gummi bears even!—and you _knew_ how hard it would be for me to resist that. On top of which, I was late the week before that because you—"

She is silenced by a finger. Her finger no less, care of one Nick Lucas who has unwittingly accosted her other hand. She puts her "game face" on (the one she only uses when the competition is fierce) and he can't help but wrap his arms around her, gathering her tightly to him.

"Okay, okay." He takes a deep breath of her apple-scented hair and finally lets her go.

Smiling up at him, she pushes her finger against his nose. "You're so weird, acting like I'll be gone for forever. It's just a couple of hours, silly bunny." And with one last kiss and a room-brightening smile, she waves goodbye and prances off to the locker room.

He, in turn, slings his schoolbag over one shoulder and makes his way toward the parking lot where his brothers and Stella are waiting while his mind wanders to that night two weeks ago when Macy those first kisses were exchanged. If he closes his eyes, he can recall exactly how her lips moved (each curve, each nuance) as she told him that she liked him. She ignited something in him and he spent the entire of that night stamping it down. There's just too much guilt involved in knowing that he can't reciprocate what she feels. But the next day right before hockey practice, she pulled him into the janitor's closet and before he could even say anything those lips are on his and all thoughts of feeling guilty left his body (comfortably replaced by her gentle hands and delicate fingers).

(He's too weak to stop himself, he's realized.)

Hence, he rationalizes it.

He makes her happy. He really really does. (He can tell by her smile and she's giving all of those to him now and only him.) And she… She makes him… feel alive. So he kisses her back, all the while thinking that what they have is good for the two of them. It's a good thing. A really good thing.

(And God has yet to smite him so he takes that as a good sign.)

But they decide not to tell anyone. Keep it _secret_. Just between the two of them. _It makes it more special_, Macy told him in the quiet of the janitor's closet, she doesn't want to share just yet. He agreed. He doesn't know how he'll answer everyone's questions (especially the one that goes "So are you a couple or what?"). But mostly because he doesn't want to talk to Kevin anymore about Macy.

(And that terrible part of him feels victorious. Like he's the better brother. But better at what, he's not entirely sure.)

"Finally, Nicholas!" Joe shouts from across the parking lot the minute Nick's shoes come in contact with asphalt. "Where've you been?"

He forgoes answering until he's closer to the group of three. "Library," he explains quietly. Then he promptly ignores Kevin's raised eyebrow by throwing his stuff in the trunk.

"Shotgun!" Joe cries, throwing himself into the front passenger leaving the others no other choice but to climb in after him and head home.

Stella, apparently, decides at some point to spend the entire ride home staring at Nick. It's a little more difficult trying to ignore her (_because Stella Malone will not be ignored!_) than it is to ignore Kevin. He tries to fix his face into one of those blank, disinterested looks and turns to fix her with it but she answers with a knowing smirk and it really throws him off-guard.

He knows for a fact that Stella doesn't know anything for certain. He's not being a jerk when he says that Stella _cannot_ keep a secret. Two seconds and she's texting it to Joe. But now she's acting like they're in on something and it's scaring him a little that there's a _something_ in his life that he's not aware of.

(Because his life is already full of little _somethings_ that another one will just… just... It's too much.)

He changes his look to a questioning one and Stella mimics him before giggling silently and it works like a stun gun on him, leaving him frozen in place and trying to digest what it all means. (Frankly, he's tired of trying to think of what things mean but that's who he is. At least, the only part of himself he still recognizes when he looks in the mirror every morning.)

What exactly does Stella Malone know?

"I know what you're up to!" she announces but in hushed tones once she's managed to corner him near the bathroom.

"I need to pee, Stella."

In a blatant disregard for Nick's (and his bladder's) wellbeing, she ignores him and even pokes a finger into his chest. He can feel her fingernail digging into his uniform and tries to shake it off. Big mistake, of course. Stella on a mission never takes well to being brushed off, though. Certainly years of being her friend has taught him that, but the impending topic is something he'd really rather not talk about it. For all intents and purposes, he intends to sweep it under the rug (where lies broken guitar strings, promises and dreams).

"Nick Lucas! Will you stop being so avoidy with me? I just want to talk!"

"Avoidy? That's not even a word, Stell."

Her eyes narrow to tiny slits that make Nick fear for his life. (On the other hand, he also wants to goad her further to see if he can push her and provoke her to commit murder. You know. Just to see if he can.)

"Listen, Nicholas. You and Macy can deny things all you want but I know when something is going on! You don't think I can smell it when it's happening right underneath my nose?" One of Stella's brows is arched at him now and Nick thinks that it's infinitely better than having her death glare trained on him. He could lose a curl of hair with those laser eyes of hers.

(Which is also why he refrains from pointing out that Stella can be a little self-absorbed sometimes. That'll secure him a painful death for sure.)

He scratches his forehead in feigned wonder and even resorts to lifting a stoic eyebrow for added effect. The conversation is travelling down a road that Nick does not want to be on and if it means he has to lie (like he always does to himself) to get out of it, then he will. (He tells himself that it's because he's tired but he doesn't know how long that excuse will last—see; lies.)

"Stella, I seriously need to take a piss. If you don't move out of the way, I'll likely wet my pants. I don't think either of us wants to see that happen," he says, giving her a pointed look.

Before she can get another word in, he quickly pushes past her into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him—effectively painting himself into a corner. He doesn't really need to pee (because he's a _liar-liar-pants-on-fiiiiiiiiire!_).

"I can hear you _not_ peeing, Nick!"

He groans, all the while trying to refrain from banging his head against the door. "Performance anxiety, Stell! Go away! I can hear you breathing from the other side of the door!"

Because he should have known better—but he never does, does he—after just a few moments, Nick opens the door slightly, peeking through the crack to see Stella looking a little blue in the face. Holding her breath in. Pretending not to be there. (Sometimes, he can totally see the attraction between Joe and Stella.) He gives up and smiles at her for trying so valiantly to force him to talk. She takes this as a good sign and expels all that pent-up air. Then she gives him a smug little smile because she can never resist an opportunity to do so.

"Are you gonna start talking?"

"What am I supposed to be talking about?"

Hands are thrown in the air in apparent exasperation. Nick dodges them easily.

"You and _Macy_? Two of my best friends? Are you guys, like, together or something? Because if you are that'd be—whoa. I can't even imagine…"

"I honestly don't know what to tell you," he replies honestly, not really knowing what to tell her. "Macy and I… We've gotten closer. We're really good… friends now."

"Friends… Friends…" Stella repeats the word, as if trying to test it out and study how it rolls off her tongue. "_Friends_, Nick? You expect me to buy the whole 'just friends' thing?"

"Yes, friends. Like you and Joe are friends. I buy _that_."

(Nick of JONAS, one; Stella Malone, zero.)

(Wait wait wait. Nick Lucas. Nick Lucas. NickLucasNickLucasNickLucas_NickLucas_.)

"Don't you dare go there, Nicholas! That's a totally different thing. _Completely_ different situation with _completely_ different people involved and it's just different, okay?" Stella announces all this emphatically enough that he is all but compelled to nod in agreement.

"Okay, fine. We've kissed."

"You've "kissed" her? "Kissed" implies that it only happened a handful of times." Stella really has an affinity for air-quotes. "Nick, no girl goes to town with her lip balm _before_ lunch because of a small peck on the lips. Oh _yes_, I know you've been making out. Kevin told me."

Kevin?

"Kevin?"

And she gives him another smug look. "Yeah, he told me a couple of weeks ago that he caught you two up here in your room, making out on your _bed_… Seriously, Nick. What's going on? Macy's all avoidy with me and you're all 'I don't know what to tell you' and Joe's like 'Is there something going on that I should know about?' and Kevin's been pestering me to pester you and Macy and—" She pauses to take a much needed breath. "It's driving me nuts!"

Nick stares at her hard, knowing that there's no way he can explain things to Stella (when he can't even explain things to himself in words that make _sense_) and not come off as a complete jerk. The answers she's looking for won't be as pleasant as she might hope. They won't elicit girly little Awws and Ooohs. They may, in fact, lead her to punch him in the gut and he'll probably deserve it. How can he tell her that he's just using her best friend to be able to just… feel. Something. Anything. Because his life has made him hungry for crowds of screaming fans and lime lights and special treatment and in Macy he gets a fan and some special treatment and one-and-a-half out of two isn't bad.

(But it really, really is.)

(Really is.)

So Nick tells his best friend, Stella, what she wants to hear.

"I like Macy."

"Like… _Like_ like?"

"Sure."

(And someday he'll look back on this day and think that this is where it all went wrong. A Wednesday.)

* * *

It's after dinner and he's taking out the garbage (because they're really just a normal family yadda yadda yadda) when a slim pair of arms wrap around his waist, fingers slipping into his pockets. He drops the garbage bags unceremoniously and leans back against the warm and welcoming body.

"This is a holdup," is whispered in his ear. It's rather the opposite of threatening.

He grins, grabbing hold of the thin wrists pressed against his pelvis. "You already have your hands deep enough in my pockets to know that I've got nothing in them, Macy."

"I know," she replies softly. "They're sad pockets, Nick."

"Sad pockets?"

"Yup! Empty pockets are sad pockets."

It's so weird, but it's so Macy and he has learned never to argue with her logic. He turns in her arms and finds her studying him intently. It unnerves him a little because her eyes seem to be looking for answers but he doesn't know what the questions are.

"What about your pockets? Got anything in 'em?" He mentally crosses his fingers, hoping to distract her from whatever has been going on in her head. "Or do you have sad pockets, too?"

She smiles and pulls out her mobile phone from one pocket, her house keys from another, a wadded up piece of tissue from her back pocket and a guitar pick. A familiar-looking guitar pick, actually. A guitar pick that used to sit near the edge of his equipment table but suddenly vanished a couple of weeks ago. He didn't give it much thought then—he's more than capable of losing picks than he wants to admit—so he's more amused than anything that she's the culprit.

"Isn't that mine?"

"Maaaaybe?" she answers, titling her head to the side and opening her eyes wide to appear all innocent—appear, being the operating word. He's noticed that it's a facial expression she gets when she knows that she's touched him in a way that will make him physically unable to resist touching her back.

(He likes that look. A lot.)

"Looks like I've got myself a little thief." He draws her to him, arms wrapping around her tightly. It's the small sigh of contentment that he feels against his neck that makes him believe that what this is (whatever this is), is a good thing.

A very very good thing, he thinks when he feels Macy's hands slip into his back pockets this time. However, Macy is only a girl and girls like to ruin moments by talking.

"Nick?"

The way his name drips off the tip of her tongue like honey tells him what he needs to know. His little thief has been talking to his best friend/stylist/Stella-Malone-who-can't-keep-her-mouth-shut. Although, admittedly, it would have been a little far-fetched to hope that she didn't immediately call Macy to share her conversation with Nick earlier.

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" is the question that takes him by surprise but he supposes that standing in front of a garbage bin really isn't suitable for any sort of conversation. Which gives him all the more reason to stay right where he is, except Macy doesn't wait for him to answer as she grabs his hand and drags him in the direction of a nearby park.

The neighborhood is quiet save for their sneakers scuffing along the pavement as they walk hand-in-hand in the night. Nick looks at Macy looking up at the stars, squinting as she connects them with her finger.

"Only children know what they are looking for…"

He's startled by the poignancy of her words before realizing that they sound a little familiar.

"The Little Prince," Macy supplies helpfully. She sighs and continues to trace the stars as if she were mapping something out—a destination of sorts. "My dad used to read it to me when I was a child. I didn't quite understand it then but I loved it nonetheless. Still do. So every now and then, when the skies are clear and the stars are out, I try to guess where he is and what he's doing… That sounds really silly, doesn't it?"

See, one of the things he likes about being with Macy is that she has these rather profound moments and that, coupled with her soft, sweet voice, often lulls him into a feeling of contentment. Albeit briefly, it's a welcome escape to all those warring thoughts in his head.

Everything about Macy is an escape, he thinks, as he pulls on her hand to bring her closer to his side.

"It's not silly," he assures her, matching the softness in her voice. Because it isn't silly. Because he's the same way. He's also holding on to things that remind him of who he was.

She smiles up at him then, a smile that is just as bright in the evening sky as it is during the day, and he's starting to think that maybe he doesn't really deserve those smiles that she gives him with her whole heart because he doesn't give her anything with his whole heart.

(But he stuffs that one smile in his back pocket.)

(It makes his pocket a little happier, he justifies to himself.)

The second they step foot on the green grass of the park, Macy breaks into a run toward the swings, bringing Nick along with her. Her fingers are tight around his as their feet pound loudly against the ground and his heart pumps loudly in his ears. They stop when they reach their destination, both out of breath and both with cheeks tinged pink.

This is what he wants—a one-way ticket into Macy's world. Where everything is just so much _more_ than what it is. Even in the dark, he knows that the grass is greener here and he grips her hand tighter because it's a gift, this moment, and he doesn't quite know how to thank her. So he just pulls her to him and buries his face in the crook of her neck, hoping that his vulnerability is enough thanks.

(But nothing he can give her will ever be enough.)

In that single moment, Nick thinks that maybe he can do this. That he can really like Macy the way she deserves to be liked. He thinks that maybe now that she's stopped seeing him as Nick of JONAS that he can stop himself that way too. Then they can just be Nick and Macy. In Macy's world. Where the frogs are really really green. Where all his feelings are true.

(Where he doesn't have to lie to himself.)

When he finally releases her and looks into her eyes, he almost doubles over. He wants to run away as fast as he can, for as long as he can and then throw up once he's done. Because there's just too much love and hope swimming in her eyes and there's just a large part of him (that's just too _too large_) that wants to take it all and push it down his throat. He wants to swallow it all down and then maybe he can look at her the same way. But he can't. He's not ready.

And Macy knows this.

"Why'd you have to tell Stella that you like me?" Her voice is devoid of any bitterness or accusation. It's just full of curiosity and, somehow, understanding. (She's just all of these things that he doesn't deserve. Including the rainbows and the frogs.)

It's in him to feign ignorance, it really is, but this Macy who has already given him so much and so he hangs his head, ashamed. "I don't know," he finally answers after an eternity.

Whatever reaction he thinks she'll have (anger, disappointment, resentment) doesn't come. Instead she just sighs and rests a hand on his cheek. "I won't lie," she whispers, as if she were sharing a secret with the night, "When she told me what you said, I thought I was going to pass out but the coach was like 'Misa! Head in the clouds much?' and so yeah, that didn't happen. But…"

"But?"

"I'm not stupid, Nick," she tells him plainly. She shakes her head and removes every part of her body away from him, warm fingertips and all. "I have these moments when I think that, maybe, yeah, you could feel the same way. But those moments are just that—a few moments in each day that I never dwell on for too long because if I did…"

He reaches out to her then and even when his fingers curl around her wrist it feels like she's a million miles away (and maybe it wasn't a one-way ticket after all). But she looks at him with and there's still all that love there, mixed with despair, mixed with hopelessness that eats at his heart.

"If I think about things for too long, I'm afraid that I'll just hate you and I don't want that… So I tell myself that you're not ready. That maybe we've moved too fast and you're overwhelmed. And I tell myself that when we're together, when you touch me, everything you say is true. But you know what the problem with that is?"

Not knowing what to say, he remains mute, hoping that it'll be enough to encourage her to continue. The words will be painful, he knows, but he thinks that of all the things that she's ever given him, he deserves the pain most of all.

"You don't say much. In fact, you don't say anything, Nick." She pulls away from him again, quite deliberately this time as she flings his hand away. Walking the few steps to the swing set and sits down dejectedly. (And there's nothing left of his heart at this point; all her emotions have eaten it all up.)

"Macy… I'm sorry," he attempts lamely at an apology. But it's so empty, so… _weak_ that he tries again. "I didn't mean to… I mean… I wish…"

But her eyes arrest him in the middle of his awkward sputtering. So he tries again, to get the words out, to make her understand.

"There's something wrong with me, Macy. I can't explain… I wish I could."

"Try."

Shoving his hands into his empty pockets, Nick does as he's asked. "I'm out of control. Man, that sounds stupid…" and he would have stopped there had she not reached over and placed her hand on his. "Have you ever felt like you're losing yourself? This life—I feel like I have to be two people at the same time and I look at my brothers and they're the exact opposite, you know? Kevin and Joe… they do it so effortlessly. They're always real."

Her fingers slowly intertwine with his and he takes a deep breath before continuing. "Me, I hold back. Nick of JONAS, I push him to the back of my mind where he likes rocking out on his guitar and banging on his drums. He likes being the center of attention, the leader. He likes the screaming fans and he secretly revels when they get a little overeager and tear off his sleeve." Nick gives Macy a rueful smile and he's glad when she returns it with a slight blush.

"I hold myself back because every day I want to be more Nick of JONAS and less… me. And then there you were on a particularly bad day and you just… made me feel good. I sang you songs and you smiled. I sat beside you and you're like a kid on Christmas day. With you, I don't need the crowds of fans…"

They sit there for a while, letting the words hang in the air before a breeze comes and blows them away. He's a little afraid of the silence, afraid that it means that whatever he has or had with Macy has been rendered irreparable. But he's already said too much, too much truth to be able to take it all back and pretend that it hadn't happened. Except it did and he doesn't know how to save himself.

(There are no lifesavers for this kind of drowning.)

His only hope is that maybe, in the grand scheme of things, he isn't really meant to save himself.

"So…"

Nick turns to Macy, who's looking back at him, eyes shining with a billion unasked questions and a few unshed tears. It makes him ache, a worse ache that he's ever felt and it propels him to stand, pulling her along with him as he begins to walk. The pace gets faster and faster until they're running again but this time without a destination in mind. He thinks maybe they can run forever and that the world will just be a blur.

"Nick!" Macy shouts when they've almost cleared the park and are stomping on pavement again. She tries to shake off his hand but he only lets go when she adds, "You're hurting me!"

(He wonders when he'll be able to stop hurting her altogether.)

"I'm sorry!" The words come out harsher than he intends.

"Nick…" That's when he notices that she's crying, her glistening tears making her cheeks sparkle. "I don't think I can do this… not anymore. I won't be Macy the fan to your Nick of JONAS, okay? That's how you see me, right? Just some fan… some fan who makes you feel good, who makes you feel like Nick of JONAS without having to feel guilty."

And he's breathing hard now, frozen as she reads all the thoughts in his head and in his heart. She's tearing the words out of his body and he knows that when she's done he'll just be an empty shell. But she takes his silence as a quiet confession and she begins to step away from, feet moving backward as she launches another emotional missile at him and it hits him with such precision and force.

"You stopped being Nick of JONAS to me a long time ago and I thought that you'd finally started to see me as being more than a fan. Now I find out that all this… you and me…" Her voice falters and she sounds so weak, so unlike Macy that he wants to take it all back. But it's just too late. "I know that what you're going through—I know it's hard. You don't know who you are, Nick of JONAS or Nick Lucas or Nick whatever. But you know what, Nick? I know who I am. I'm Macy. _Macy_."

Her hands come up to her face to wipe away the tears. "I really like you. I really really _really_ like you… So please… Leave me alone."

This is not what he wanted, Nick thinks as he watches Macy walk away.

This is what he gets—her heart. Broken.

(It'll be a while before he'll like Wednesdays again.)

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter. I have a great deal of love for each and every one of them! :] Keep them coming! (Because I honestly don't know if I'm doing this right!)

Two things:

1- At this point, I know everyone's like "Huh? What is wrong with Nick?" but I'll put him on some path to redemption eventually!

2- This might feel a little rushed. But I only have seven chapters to tell the story! :D Haha!


	4. Chapter Four: Thursday

**Chapter Four: Thursday.**

Macy imagines that this must be what Alice felt when she fell down that rabbit hole—scared and rather lost. She pretends that she's okay, though. She pretends that the fall didn't leave her with scraped knees and a broken heart. It's easier that way, even though she's not very good at it. But it's just a matter of pulling a sleeve over her heart like it was never there in the first place.

In the morning, she finds herself staring at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. She's been doing this for the past month. Braid hair, brush teeth, apply lip balm. In that exact order… she needs to restore order in her life. It didn't use to matter but the morning routine is somehow a sign that all is normal. You know. Even if she isn't.

But she will be.

She will be. Good ol' Macy Misa will make her colorful comeback. Hopefully.

In school, it's harder. Stella still gives her those sympathetic looks that she thinks are subtle but Macy just ignores them, brushing them off like the snowflakes that fall on her coat as she walks to school. She doesn't like the pity. There's been too much pity the past month that it's begun to carve holes in her body, leaving her half the person she used to be. She would rather the amused looks that her classmates used to give her than this.

As a result, she finds herself retreating to the library more and more often. The silence is comforting and the sad glances are minimal (Stella isn't really a hangout at the library type of person). It also helps that her grades are splendid because of her newfound sanctuary. Although she doesn't derive the same kind of pleasure from it as she used to.

(Used to. Used to. So many things she used to be.)

"You're gonna start talking to me soon, Macy Misa." The threat is mellowed by an amused tone and she suddenly finds herself looking into brown eyes that are curiously devoid of anything but anticipation.

It's Kevin.

"We talk, Kevin." She offers a small shrug. "We talked yesterday. And the day before that, too."

His eyebrows raise in question. "Yeah, okay. Yesterday's conversation about your Geometry homework was very enlightening, I'll give you that," he replies, his eyes twinkling now, "but I was thinking more along the lines of fun things. Things that don't require textbooks or calculators?"

"Oh." She tries to return her focus to her book but his eyes… soft brown eyes that look at her like she's still the same old Macy… they make her look up again. "Did you want to talk about anything in particular?"

"Well, I…" He scratches his head, probably unprepared for her to suddenly be so open to talking. "How are you? I know that it can't be easy dealing with—"

_Oh God…_

"No, Kevin. No." She cuts him off. "Please don't go all guidance counselor on me. It's literally the last thing that I need right now."

"Macy… I'm just worried about you, okay?"

"Everyone's worried about me. I get that," she spats out in exasperation. Honestly, she really, really does. "They want me to be okay and you know what? So do I. Kevin, I really wanna be okay again… I promise. But it's hard. Can you understand that? It feels like I've been gutted and emptied out. Every day is a struggle to find all the pieces of myself that I've lost and it's frustrating to think that it's a month later and nothing's changed!"

Normally, at this point, she would be at the brink of tears but last week they finally ran out. It was quite a relief, actually. Even more startling is how white her knuckles are now from gripping the edge of the table, how hot her cheeks feel, and how her heart thumps angrily against her chest. She feels alive again. She feels… good.

A short _ahem_ beside them reveals that the tight-lipped school librarian standing next to the table they are occupying. The accompanying stern look tells them that it is time to leave. And to leave as quietly as possible if they can manage it.

Outside, Macy tries desperately to get away from Kevin and his questions and those eyes but his warm hand grasps her wrist and she feels all her strength drain away from her. Her back hits the wall and she slides down until she's on the floor, knees up to her chest, face pressed into her hands. Everything seems to hurt all at once: her head, her heart, her fingertips. It's not even a physical pain really, but a sort of gnawing emptiness that leaves her insides raw.

She hears Kevin toss his bag on the floor and feels him sit down beside her. He's always been such a good friend and even when she was at the peak of fangirling, he had always been the most understanding and patient of the three. But now when she looks at him all she sees is how his curly hair reminds her of his younger brother and how that same younger brother broke her heart.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't mean to but she chuckles a little at the apology and feels guilty immediately after when Kevin doesn't seem the least bit hurt by her reaction.

So she shrugs her shoulders too. "It's not your fault."

"Sometimes I feel like it is."

"Are you serious?" she asks incredulously because she doesn't understand how Kevin could ever be blamed for Nick's behavior. "There's absolutely no reason for you to feel responsible."

She hears him sigh. It sounds tired. "I've known for a while that something was bothering Nick," he begins slowly, the hesitation evident in his tone. But Macy is thankful when he continues. "He wasn't just aloof; he had become withdrawn. But… he doesn't open up easily. That's why I never pushed him. When you guys became… closer? I thought that maybe it was a good idea. You're so bright and cheerful and he's… Nick. Except things didn't really change, did they? He was still detached from everyone and everything. Aside from you."

Everything that Kevin's said hits Macy like a ton of bricks. She turns to him and she knows that the admiration is in her eyes because it's never really occurred to her just how much of a good brother Kevin is. She's always prided herself in being observant, as is necessary in sports, but the things that he just told her, she never noticed. For the first time since that night, she wants to tell someone what happened. She wants to tell Kevin everything, wants to share with him all the details (that she's kept close to herself, stuffed under her pillow) because maybe he'll have more answers. Maybe he can fix Nick.

(And then maybe Nick will want Macy for real.)

"And then it was like he was living inside this bubble and you were the only one he'd let inside. I mean, bubbles are pretty awesome, you know? But the way he was doing it was all wrong. It was…" and as Kevin searches for the right word to use, Macy's already found it.

Destructive.

"Destructive…" He finishes softly, a minute later. "When someone is like that, the last thing they need is to be in a relationship. It's just doomed to fail… I knew that. But I just watched it happen."

"Stop blaming yourself, Kev. Stop it or—"

"Or?"

"I'll hit you with a baseball bat. I have two in my locker."

He laughs at that, a warm laugh that washes over her and fills some of the spaces in her heart. It makes her smile—a smile wider than she's been able to wear recently.

"Nice to see a little of that Macy cheer again," Kevin comments jovially, looking quite pleased with himself.

(Sometimes, she wishes that she likes this brother instead because she can't imagine Kevin ever breaking anyone's heart.)

(But life is never that easy. And love, by association, sucks.)

She straightens her legs in front of her, pointing her toes in her shoes. Then she crosses her legs and plays with the hem of her skirt. After a few moments, her fingers move to the buttons of her blouse and they both know that she's just trying to occupy herself to keep from asking the painful question. But she's Macy and she just can't help but open her mouth and let all her words and emotions tumble out.

"How is he?"

"He's Nick, Mace. Who really knows what's going on in his head?" It's supposed to be a joke, Macy knows, but it's half-hearted and Kevin just ends it with a shrug and a slight smile.

"He doesn't really talk about it. Mom learned pretty early on that he wasn't going to answer any questions about you. But then again, he doesn't answer questions about anything. Honestly, we're all walking on eggshells around him. Have you ever tried walking on an actual eggshell? It's _really_ painful."

She doesn't quite know whether to laugh or burst into tears so she just chokes a little on both. (She's always been about the little compromises.) Her heart is begging her to let it just stop because she can't take this anymore. Since that night, she's wondered repeatedly if she was too hasty in walking away from him. Her thoughts torture her constantly with images of her staying, wrapping her arms around him and willing all his demons away. She knows that it wouldn't have worked but she can't help but think that maybe instead of saving herself, she could have saved him first.

(But there are no lifesavers for this kind of drowning and the thought of jumping into unchartered waters scares her.)

(Despite being an excellent swimmer.)

In the end, the one thing that stops her from giving in and throwing herself at Nick is the fact that he didn't run after her. Sure, it's the stuff that cliché romantic girly-girl movies are made of but it would have meant something monumental if he had just taken those steps toward her or even just called out her name. Never mind what she said about wanting to be left alone! She wants him, yes. But she wants him to want her just as much.

"I was twelve and one of my friends was the first of us to get a boyfriend. Twelve. What do you know when you're twelve?" She lets out a shaky laugh but Kevin isn't as amused and she doesn't blame him. "But we were all excited for her because that's what happens when you're twelve and there's that possibility of love waiting around the corner. They go out for an entire month before they break up. And that's when I began to think that you should be just as prepared for heartache as you are for love. But that's just not possible …"

And it sucks because the one thing that Macy is truly good at is preparing. Whether it's a game of volleyball or a biology test, Macy Misa is always prepared. She enjoys a good challenge but nursing a broken heart is something that she wishes to never having to go through again. (Especially when she's not so sure that she'll be able to survive this one.)

"Maybe it's because we're growing up? I don't think that things get easier; they just get harder. You get older and you get all that terrible stuff like… paying taxes and arthritis." Kevin shudders, presumably at the thought of getting arthritis. Macy can't imagine a member of JONAS being unable to pay for taxes.

"But I don't wanna grow up," Macy whispers forlornly.

"Me neither."

They sit in companionable silence for a while until Kevin decides that he wants to talk some more. Macy finds that she's beginning to brace herself every time he opens his mouth because inasmuch as she wants to hear what he has to say, some of the things that come out of his mouth are _painful_.

"I almost forgot to give this to you."

In her hand she suddenly finds a bright red apple. She thinks maybe that it's one of those poisoned apples and if she bites into it she can finally fall asleep. (And she realizes that she shouldn't really be mixing fairytales here—especially when there's no Prince Charming to save her.)

She almost screams when she feels fresh tears well up in her eyes because she isn't supposed to cry anymore but all the memories of them sharing apples in the atrium surround her and wrap tightly around her neck. Instead she lets the apple fall from her hand to the dirty floor and it rolls to the middle of the corridor.

"He leaves them on the bench in the atrium every lunch period."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah… Started leaving them a week after you guys—you know. Anyway, he leaves it there and then comes back to check if it's still there and it always is. It makes him sad. When I saw this apple today, sitting out there with winter's first snow, I thought it looked lonely so I decided to take it." He leans forward, grabbing the apple off the floor and rubbing it against the sleeve of his button-down.

"He needs a break from the sadness," Kevin explains simply, "and so do you."

They share a look then, broken only when Macy nods stiffly and looks away.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him, Mace. Although… Christmas _is_ the season of forgiving—"

"_Giving_, Kevin. Not forgiving." Macy rolls her eyes as she corrects, but she can't help but smile a little.

"All right, all right," he relents. "But think about it. You guys were really good friends. Well, while the friendship thing lasted. But yeah, friendship suited you and Nick. It looked good on you on the two of you."

"You make it sound like we're trying on shoes, Kevin."

He laughs at that, his eyes bright and cheerful and Macy feels a twinge of jealousy. "I guess you're right. But maybe friendship is like shoes? Imagine if I could find someone who fit me like my lucky boot? I'd be foolish to let that person go."

Later, as Macy walks to her next class, she thinks about Kevin's words. It would be nice to think that she and Nick can go back to how it was before all the… touching… began. But both her heart and mind know that once something changes, it can never go back to how it was before.

She stops in mid-stride and finds herself standing in front of the atrium, looking at the boy who broke her heart, sitting on a bench outside covered in newly fallen snow, wearing clothes too thin for the cold. Their eyes meet and after one breath-taking moment, he offers her a tentative smile. She debates just leaving it at that and walking away, but she's weak and her broken heart is pounding. So she reaches into her bag and pulls out the apple, showing it to him along with a small and equally tentative smile.

Walking away, she decides that Kevin is right about one thing. They need a break from the sadness.

* * *

When Stella Malone shows up at your front step with a huge bag of gummi bears, her even bigger makeup kit and a handful of DVDs (Lindsay Lohan pre-substance abuse, she's informed), don't fight it. Just give in. It's a lot less painful that way.

"I hear you're talking now. Is that true?" Stella asks, one eyebrow raised and it looks rather menacing.

Macy swallows nervously and nods.

"Good."

She stands rooted to the ground as her best friend pushes past her and flops down on the living room sofa. Already having had a deeply emotional talk with Kevin earlier, Macy's not quite sure if she can handle another one so soon. But Stella's her best friend. Her best friend who she's been ignoring for the better part of the month, but one who's been patiently waiting for her to be comfortable enough to start talking about things.

So Macy steels herself and follows after her friend, pausing only to picking up the scarf and heavy coat off the floor—telltale signs of hurricane Stella. The bag of sweets is open, already missing a few bears and The Parent Trap is playing on the television screen. The fact that the volume is turned down so low that one could barely hear anything tells Macy that Stella's not going to allow her to get settled down and comfortable before launching into her attack.

"So…" Macy says as she sits down on the other end of the sofa. "What's up?"

"Nuh-uh. No way, Mace." Stella shakes her blonde head, sporting a look that's a mixture of patronizing and 'Don't make me beat you'. "You're gonna start talking, okay? You're going to tell me what happened between you and Nick. And yeah, all right, Joe may have said that I shouldn't force you into doing things that you don't wanna do but honestly… It scares me that you're not talking. It's what we do, you know?"

"I know… and I'm sorry." Macy reached over to pull her friend into a tight hug.

Most of the time, Macy feels like a sidekick to Stella. Sure, she has the whole sports thing going on and she's really good at that. But there are times when she wishes that she stood out more for other reasons. Okay, maybe she wants to stand out because of _boys_ but that shouldn't be counted against her! She's still just a teenage girl and she's allowed to be a little superficial sometimes.

(And sometimes she has dreams where her hair is blonde and her eyes are blue.)

It's times like this, though, that she remembers why she doesn't mind that Stella is Stella and she's Macy.

Biting off a gummi bear head, she considers what she should say. Earlier with Kevin, she came so close to just giving in and letting everything spill out of her. However, something always stops her short. What happened that night, as heartbreaking as it all was, she has treated like a secret. The things that Nick said (and she remembers everything, word for word, emotion for emotion) were said in confidence. Yes, it had hurt to hear them but it isn't her place to tell anyone. Even if the person is her best friend.

But Stella is sitting beside her, still as patient as ever and Macy knows that she has no choice but to start talking. So she does.

"We were moving too fast," she lies, and _man_ does she want to cry because she the memory of him pressing that single kiss on her neck that night so many nights ago is screaming through her mind, calling her a liar. "I guess we just couldn't handle it."

"But Nick _likes_ you, Macy. That's what he told me, remember?"

But she doesn't want to remember. All she wants to do and cry through a mouthful of gummi bears in her friend's arms and not have to answer any questions. Instead, she shrugs and sighs and makes sure that her lower lip doesn't quiver.

"I probably shouldn't have grilled Nick that day. You know how guys get when you ask them about their feelings and stuff."

Macy imagines that as long as her heart stays broken, people will continually tell her about the things they should and shouldn't have done. Stella and her badgering Nick. Kevin and his not having done anything to prevent this. Her mom and her allowing Macy to spend all her free time with 'that boy'. Everyone blames him or herself but that's just not fair. They didn't break her heart.

(She did it all by herself.)

"It doesn't matter, Stella. It's over."

"Oh."

Silence. Macy wonders how long it will last.

"Like… _over_ over?"

All of one minute and thirty seconds.

"To be honest," and Macy's really trying to be honest here, "I don't want it to be. But it _feels_ like it is. I haven't talked to Nick since that night and… I don't know if I'll ever be ready to talk to him again. A lot of things were said that we can't take back or forget. Maybe eventually we can be friends? I don't know; it's too soon to tell."

Stella releases a sad sigh and Macy wonders how many of those she'll be hearing today. "I miss our group of five. Not to sound selfish or anything, but I miss going to lunch, knowing that all my best friends are going to be there. I miss all those boys versus boys debates that we used to have after school. I miss seeing you and Nick laugh."

"The last bit doesn't sound so selfish," Macy points out with a grin, "it sounds very much like a best friend."

Beside her, she notices that Stella has been picking out the red gummi bears and stuffing them in her mouth one-by-one in rapid succession while sporting one of those 'Quiet! Stella is thinking!' looks and wonders how long it'll be before she finally says what's on her mind.

Forty-three seconds.

"Was it worth it?"

"What now?" Macy makes a grab for the bag of sugary goodness before Stella chokes herself. Fortunately, her sportswomaness (and yes, there is no such word) leads her to victory and she celebrates with a couple bears too.

"You know... Was it worth it. Being together? I know it didn't last that long, but—" Stella grabs one of the throw pillows and hugs it close to her chest. "Was it worth it? I wonder because…"

"You and Joe?" Macy interjects, smiling knowingly at her friend. "Is that what you're afraid of, Stella? That it won't work out?"

Stella quickly covers her face with the pillows and groans. "It didn't work for you and Nick! And you guys are, like, more stable and, and, and level-headed than me and Joe."

"Yeah, okay, that's not even remotely near the truth." It's so far from the truth that Macy has to keep herself from laughing. "Plus, you and Joe are different people! The two of you are meant to be together! You have all that weird awkward tension thing going and everything!"

"Right, and that totally spells romance," is Stella's dry comment, escaping from beneath the pillow.

Macy sighs and leans back against the sofa. After a few minutes of not hearing what preteen Lindsay Lohan is saying, she feels Stella move the pillow from her face. She's not sure how her friend does it but her makeup is still pristine.

"I think I love him," Stella finally admits slowly, scooting closer to Macy.

Macy smiles sympathetically and wraps a comforting arm around her best friend. "I know you do, sweetie."

"I want to try, you know, being with him but I'm scared that it'll end up badly. Maybe it won't but there's still that possibility that maybe it will. I'm not yet sure if risking our friendship is worth knowing if it'll work out between me and him."

"He really cares about you, Stella. And you and Joe… you're closer friends than Nick and I ever were. You know him better than I knew Nick—" _or thought I knew him_, Macy adds to herself silently, "and vice versa. You being scared of what ifs that might not even be reality may be holding you back from being truly happy."

Stella looks at her then, eyes unblinking and wide with awe. "Wow…"

"Wow?"

"The way you talk about love, it's like—"

"I can still believe in love…" Macy cuts in, trying not to sound as broken as her heart feels. "This isn't the end all and be all, right? So I liked a guy and it didn't work out! It happens to everyone and so just because it happened to me doesn't make me someone so completely undesirable… I'll find someone and it'll be perfect."

"Exactly!"

Despite Stella's emphatic agreement (and to her utter, utter chagrin), she ends up bursting into tears. The next hour and a half are devoted to devouring all the gummi bears, plus, the cookies stashed in the pantry along with the ice cream stolen from the freezer. Lindsay Lohan in all her forgotten pureness is just that—forgotten in favor of finger and toenail painting. When it's all over, Macy's feeling better than she has in a long while and she thinks that Kevin might not only be right but he might be a little prophetic.

She's a lot less sad than when she woke up this morning.

Stella's packing up her things (really, that makeup kit is _gigantic_) when she takes a deep breath and asks the question that's been lurking at the back of her mind since that night with Nick.

"Is it better to be with someone who you love more than he loves you or to be with someone who loves you more than you love him?"

Her best friend pauses for a moment to consider her question. "That's a tough one. If you love him more then it'll build up resentment. If he loves you more then you're just settling…"

"That's what I was thinking."

"Well, yeah, except we're talking about love, Macy. I know that I don't know much about love but I think that if it's really love then there's no scoreboard where you can take down who scored how many points and whatnot. Things like that don't matter. They don't count."

As she bids Stella goodbye, Macy wonders when all her friends became so wise.

(If there's a learning curve, she's ruining it by not keeping up.)

The less sad feelings remain with her through the night, she realizes as her parents comment on her happier attitude during dinner. She even decides to go out for a walk and while pulling on her socks and boots a flash of excitement rushes through her. Hope blossoms in her heart and the thought that maybe today is a sign that things are beginning to turn around for her.

She can't help the giggle that escapes her lips as her boots crunch against the snow. She feels like she's six again and she hops from one foot to the other until she reaches the street corner. When she finally looks up from her feet to across the street, her heart plummets.

(It's those eyes and those lips and that curly curly hair that like to haunt her dreams.)

She stares at Nick and he stares right back at her. A part of her recognizes that this is how it's going to be for a while: the two of them walking on opposite sides of the street. It's a weird sort of sensation but it feels like one side of her heart breaks a little more and the other side gets a little better. She doesn't understand it and she supposes that it's one of the things about life and love that she never will understand.

He raises his hand to her again, a small wave reminiscent of the one he gave her earlier. She has second thoughts about it, but she finds herself too weak to stop herself from returning it.

It's harmless, she thinks to herself.

Yet neither one of them can look away and neither of them have managed to start moving walking again. She wants to laugh at how it's all so ironic and symbolic or whatever is the correct term for what is happening. Instead, she makes up her mind.

And then she crosses the street.

(Thursdays are much better than Wednesdays.)

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Again, thank you for the wonderful reviews! I'm sorry I made some people sad with the last chapter :/ and I hope that this chapter made up for that somehow? But yeah, thanks for the reviews! Cookies for all!

Also, since ScreamDaniix3 shared her song for the third chapter in her wonderful review, I'll share the song that I was listening to while writing this chapter. Well, one of them. :D Song for the Leftovers by A Camp.

_Two things:_

1- Macy's POV. I've been trying my hand (unsuccessfully) on a Macy-centric ficlet and wanted to do the same for this fic. I figured the fourth chapter, the middle of the seven, would be rather appropriate!

2- While I'm not really a fan of Kevin/Macy romance-wise, I do think that the friendship aspect is really nice. :D So yeah, don't worry. This is more of a Kevin the big brother than a Kevin crushing on Macy.


End file.
